Choking On Laughter
by crystalballbenny
Summary: As the two dorky vampire-slayers walk to school, Ethan just hopes for a normal day. In 1st hour Chemistry, their friend, Drew, is picked on and when he mistakes Ethan's coughing for laughing, Ethan finds himself looking at Drew and the end of a revolver. Slash : Bethan!
1. Ugly Green Monster

** It was a glorious morning in Whitechaple, the birds chirping with high sing-song voices and the sun shining down brilliantly from the cloudy blue sky. It was just the beginning of October, some people already showcasing their Halloween decorations, like sheet ghosts, straw-stuffed scarecrows, styrafoam gravestones and cardboard vampires. The smell of fall hung in the air, casting a home-y feeling around the small town. Trees everywhere were speckled with red, orange, yellow, brown and the occasional green leaves. The tall, spaceous victorian style houses made the whole effect complete. Whitechaple looked like something from out of a craft store. **

** Strolling down the sidewalk was the well known nerdy vampire-slayers of school, talking animatly about the tall, gangly one's newest videogame. **

**"I swear, it was the most fun and thrilling ride I had ever took inside of a game!" Benny Weir shouted, making hand motions of moves his avatar had made the previous night. Ethan Morgan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. **

**"No way! I though that Overkill was WAY better than last's nights game." **

**"Nu uh! Overkill was totally shadowed in comparison!" **

**"I think you're just being a sore thumb." **

**"What? Why?" **

**"You only liked Dead Space 2 better than Overkill because you beat me." Ethan said, smirking at his bestfriend. Benny grinned, raising his eyebrows up slightly. **

**"That may be true, but come on, dude. You have to admit, DS2 was a lot of fun." **

**"... Okay, fine. Yes, it was incredibly nerve-tingling and I wish I could play it again." **

**"Ha! I knew it!" **

**"Yeah yeah." Ethan replyed, half-heartily grumpy. He knew he couldn't stay mad at Benny for too long, but he always put in the effort when Benny bragged about destroying Ethan in their newest videogame. **

** They rounded the corner, coming into view of their certain death. Large, metal doors loomed up ahead, casting a cloudy subcontious over the exceedingly cheery day. Ethan sighed, mentally, building himself up for the dragging day. Benny was still going about his extrodinary moves, ones that had saved his game-life. Ethan had zoned out, and was prepping for school. It was always a bit hard getting through the seven hour torture five days a week, and Ethan had to tell his brain lies to work up enough strenght to haul his shorter but long-limbed frame out of bed, preparing himself for his living hell. School. Sucked. **

** Benny walked twords the doors, gabbing away and not watching where he was going. He ran smack into the flagpole, earning a few scattered snickers, most from Ethan. **

**"Shut up!" Benny said, chuckling inspite of himself. Ethan gawfed, covering his exposed teeth with a hand. "At least I didn't fall on my face, like on Friday." **

**"But you came pretty well close." **

**"At least I can win games that only require you to shoot aliens." **

**Ethan quit laughing and shot a look at Benny. Benny's lips twitched upwards, but he contained himself so Ethan wouldn't deck him. **

**When they reached the doors, Benny gripped the cool, steel handle, casting a glance at Ethan. "You ready, E?" **

**"As ready as I'll ever be." Benny tugged the doors open, and they were hit by a wave of noise. People milled around everywhere, the cliques gathering in clusters amung the hallway. There were the Plastics who wore mini-skirts and cheerleading uniforms everywhere, the Jocks who were mostly meat heads who had the muscles of the Hulk and proved it daily, the Ghettos who talked super loudly and whipped their weave around like a lasso, the Ghetto wanna-be's, the Plastic wanna-be's, the Jock wanna-be's (or as Ethan called them, the Jock Droolers), the Tree Huggers who were dedicated to proving to them that Global Warming was upon them and that Polar Bears were dying off, the Blast From The Past kids who practically lived in the 60's, 70's and 80's trying to bring back the Golden Days, the Regulars who fit in anywhere and with anyone, the Emo / Scene kids who spent all day listening to hard-core music like Asking Alexandria and Hollywood Undead, the Club Kids who did anything to get college credits, and the Nerds, where Ethan and Benny fit in perfectly, the kids who obsessed over things like comicbooks, videogames, Star Wars and Harry Potter, the Underdogs of Whitechapel High. And Benny was quite proud being an Underdog. It suited him just fine. **

** The two trailed over to their lockers, exchanging the usual 'See ya in a few,' and switching their backpack shoulders. Ethan exhaled heavly and loudly, skimming through his combination and tugging up the latch. His locker swung open, and he stuffed his backpack inside, unzipping his jacket with his free hand. He stuffed that inside as well, and shuffled through the stray papers and broken pencils, locating his Chemistry book. He had Chem first hour with Benny, so he wasn't totally bored or ready to knock himself out. He was pretty upset though, because Chemistry was one of his hardest subjects, and having it first hour didn't really help. Ethan wasn't ever really awake until third period, sometimes not until fourth. So, right now instead of having the straight B he knew he could have, he had a C+, and his mom was infuriated. **

**"So, I was thinking, maybe tonight I could come over and we could try to study for the Chem final? So we don't bomb it **_**again**_**?" Benny asked, leaning agaisnt the lockers to Ethan's left. Ethan looked at him, pondering. **

**"Sure. If we can get any work done. We'll probably end up finishing DS2 and then failing our tests. But, whatever!" Ethan said, grinning. **

**"That, my friend," Benny said, pointing at Ethan. "Is the most logical thing you've ever said. I commend you for it." **

**"Let's just get to class." Ethan laughed. **

**The two walked down the hallway, giggling at eachother and mocking Ethan's lack of alien slaying skills. **

**When they arrived in 's Chemistry class, a waft of unpleasnt chemical hit Ethan's nose, causing him to go into a coughing fit. **

**"Uck *cough* what is *cough* that horrible *cough* smell *cough*?" **

**"I'm not sure..." Benny said, wrinkling his nose. **

**"How can you *cough cough* stand that *cough* stuff?" **

**"It doesn't really affect me. Are you sure you're going to be all right? Are you allergic to any type of chemical?" **

**"No, no... *cough* I think it's *cough* subsiding." **

**"Okay..." Benny said. He casted a worried look at his shaggy haired friend, but decided to let it drop. Benny went to his seat next to the a Plastic, sitting as far away from her as possible. For the past couple of weeks, whenever he looked at Ethan, he got butterflies and the tingles, and he wasn't sure why. He had his suspicions, but concluded that he was just nervous for class. He wasn't exactly what you would call "book smart." So, to cover up the butterflies, Benny tried to chat up the Plastic, throwing out the cheesy pick-up lines and wiggling his eyebrows. What had the Plastic done? Well, let's just say Benny didn't get to finish his cup of Starbucks... and he needed a new pair of pants. So Benny avoided being near her as well as he could. **

** Ethan plunked down in his seat in the second row, right acrossed the asile from Benny. Ethan, of course, was stuck right next to a Jock who didn't know the first thing about how to mix Kool-Aid, much less chemicals. Naturally, Jockstrap just sat on the stool all hour and flirted with Benny's Plastic neighbor, while Ethan and Benny struggled to get their concoction done before class was over. **

**As the bell rang, one of Ethan and Benny's kind-of friends, Drew, walked through the door. Drew was your typical horror-story nerd. He had thick, shiney brown hair in a kind of wave, thick black rimmed glasses that had white tape around the middle, stormy green eyes and a constant frown. His glasses were taped together because a few days ago bully snapped them in half, then proceeded to punch Drew until he was begging for mercy. Today, it seemed, Drew had been beaten-up again and his face was proof of it. There was a nasty looking cut on his temple, his left eye was bruising underneath, and his bottom lip was cut and still bleeding. He took a shakey breath and went to his seat, keeping his head down and getting something and his book out of his bag. He place the object in question in his pocket, and plunked his book onto the table top, flipping through the pages. Ethan felt sorry for the guy, but chose not to bring it up incase Drew broke down. Again. **

**"All right, class," boomed, closing his door to the faint ringing of the school bell. "Today, we are going to be using a new chemical today, and your job is to figure out what it is." Philmore droned on and on about their assignment today, pacing back and forth across the chalkboard and scetching out their dirrections. Twords the end, Drew raised his hand high in the air. **

**"Yes, Drew?" Mr. Philmore asked, grabbing a cart with beakers on it, the glass tubes filled to the rim with bubbling green liquid. **

**"Um, sir, doesn't this expiriment require Boron?" **

**"With you in the room, there's no need. We've got all the moron we need." The Jock next to Ethan cracked, earning a laugh from everyone but from Ethan and Benny. Drew's eyes narrowed, and his hands crept twords his pocket. Probably something to throw, like an eraser, Ethan decided. "By the way, Nerd Herd, your black eye doesn't really go with your outfit." Everyone snickered again, except the two, who cast a sympathetic but torn look of wanting to stand up for Drew, but couldn't. **

**"Mr. Greggory, please don't insult others or you will find yourself in a weeks worth of Detention." **

**"Yes sir." He said, but rolling his eyes all the same. He bent in closer to those around Ethan and Benny, everyone taking the cue and doing the same. "Hey, Geek Freak!" He hissed. Drew stiffened, but turned around a fraction of an inch. "You better head to rehab. I hear your OCD has hit a high on those Star Wars barbie dolls you collect. I bet you french kiss 'em because you can't get a girl." Everyone that was tooning in laughed. Drew burned a brigh pink, but didn't say anything. Mr. Philmore came by Ethan's desk, placing one of the beakers in front of him. Mr. Philmore knew that Ethan didn't ever get any help on these things, so on concoction day, he cut Ethan some slack. **

** Ethan got a whiff of the chemical produced in front of him, and nearly gagged. It was **_**this**_** stuff that was making him hack in class this morning. Ethan sat back a bit, trying to look nonchalant. He reached out quickly and poked Benny's arm, catching his attention. Ethan pointed his finger at the green stuff, then at his throat. **

**"So that's the stuff making you cough?" Ethan nodded his head. "Why don't you tell the teacher?" **

**"Can't." He choked out. "Need the grade." **

**"Drew!" the Jock whispered. Drew looked over his shoulder, looking thunderous. "Have I ever told you that the stuff in that jar brings out your inner jealousy? I see that the little green water's just uncovered how much you want to be me." **

**Ethan couldn't hold it in anymore. He let out an abrupt cough, fallowed by sevral others. He put his face into his hands, trying to muffle the sound. Drew looked over at Ethan, his frown deepening. **

**"Are you **_**laughing**_**, Ethan?" Drew asked, appaled. **

**"Wh-what? N-no." Ethan coughed out. His eyes were starting to water, and his chest was beginning to tighten up. Drew looked doubtful, and his hand was closing around something in his pocket. "I'm co-coughing. Th-the chem-mical is to-oo strong-g." **

**"Liar." Drew hissed. **

**"I-I'm not ly-ying. Swe-ear!" **

**"You're just like everyone else, laughing at his rediculous jokes just to get on his good side. None of them are even funny! You're only hoping that if you laugh hard enough or do all of his homework, you'll become popular **_**just. Like. Him**_**." Drew spat. **

**Ethan couldn't do anything but shake his head. The coughing wouldn't stop. He closed his eyes, a tear leaking out from the corner, the hacks making his eyes turn into Niagra Falls. **

**"Well, we'll see just how funny I really seem to be." Drew said. Ethan heard a faint clicking sound, and the brush of fabric rubbing together. Loud, scattered gasps rung themselves around the room, and Ethan forced himself to stop coughing. He cracked his eyes open, blinking away the tears of strain. Blurry pictures swam before him, everything kind of tilting. Ethan rubbed the condensation out of his eyes, letting them focas in on the object in Drew's hand. **

**Held between pale fingers, Ethan found himself face to face with the gleaming barrel of a Revolver. **


	2. Don't Ever Stop Smiling

It was never truly sweltering in the small, Canadian town. They were so far north of the equator that the only way the people in Whitechapel could ever really start to burn and sweat buckets of persperation was if they had the temperature of their house heaters up too high. Summers were fair, like Autumn for the center of the States, their own Autumns and Springs kind of whispy, and their winters almost brutal temperature and wind chill wise.

But even the most frosty, burning cold of the winters they had had in Whitechapel was nothing compaired to the ice creeping up Ethan's spine, his eyes large in roundness and his lungs freezing the air in his throat.

"Oh my god." Ethan breathed, the irritating chemical completely forgotten about. The gun held in Drew's hand was shaking slightly, but the aim was steady, and so was the sad look of determination in his eyes as he looked back at Ethan's frightened expression.

"Get up, Ethan." Drew comanded quietly, voice also void of shaking.

Ethan just stared stupidly between the revolver pointed at him and his friend's rather exhausted facial emotions, blinking slowly and mouth opening and closing several times as he probed his brain for an adequit answer to the demand.

"What?" was all that came out, the inquire breathless and high-pitched.

"Get up, dammit, out of your seat!" Drew shouted into the silent classroom, gesturing wildly for Ethan to stand to his feet with the small gun held in between his hands. 

Ethan stared at him a moment more, resembling a deer in headlights, trying and failing to think up the words that could calm his friend down from his fury-induced insanity. He was never good with words, and everyone knew that, but the fact still didn't stop him from trying to bring forth a speech that just might unjar the mind-loss.

"Drew," Ethan drawled out the word, eyeing the gun and his friend carefully at the same time. "you don't want to do this-"

The said teenager let out a sharp cry of frustration and his timid, sad expression suddenly morphed into one of uncontainable rage, and Ethan jumped on his bar stool seat, his heart picking up speed in his chest.

"Fine, Morgan. If you don't want to cooperate properly, I'll just have to persuade you."

Drew paused for a moment, keeping the gun trained on Ethan, and he looked around the room as if it held the answers to all of his question. And judging by the way Drew's eyes suddenly lit up with realization and a smirk pulled tauntly at his mouth, Ethan guessed that the room did in fact hold the answer to the question he was asking himself right now.

Ethan began to slouch in relief as the gun's aim moved, his pulse slowing down, but he was soon sitting erect in his seat again as he realized what exactly Drew was planning to do in order to get Ethan to do what he said without a fight.

Ethan, and everyone else in the room, gasped again as the revolver's thin barrel was now aimed directly at the exposed area of Benny's chest, the cheerleader sitting to his right squealing loudly and jumping away. Benny's face had held a concerned and bewildered expression before the gun had been pointed at him, his worry for Ethan's health clearly written in his eyes, but now he looked suprised, as if someone had just jumped out of nowhere and showered him with confetti for his birthday.

"You've got until the count of three, Ethan, to get to your feet or I swear to God I'll pull this trigger." Drew looked at him pointedly, cocking the gun and readying it for firing. "One-"

Ethan didn't even think twice before he scrambled to his feet, nearly falling to his knees in his haste to stand up. He cursed under his breath at his eagerness to oblige, and his slight trip over his own feet, but looking up again at a malicious Drew and a slightly confused Benny, Ethan could care less how cooperating he seemed. No one hurt Benny when he was fully capable of keeping him safe. Standing stably on his feet, Ethan barely registered that something had smashed in the backround, and that there was now a pool of green liquid on the ground.

"Move the gun." Ethan snapped, forgetting that his own life was in danger for a moment. "Move the aim, Drew. I did what you asked."

"All too willingly, I might add." The chuckle that escaped from Drew's throat was dry, but none the less smug, as he did as Ethan said. Benny opened his mouth to say something, his eyebrows creased and disappearing behind his lengthy bangs, but Ethan shot him a look that held so much worry and anger that Benny just closed his mouth again with a quiet, pained cry.

"Explain to me again what your problem with me is." Ethan requested, looking incredibly annoyed.

"You know what my problem with you is."

"No, I don't, really." Ethan shot back. "All I know is that I started coughing and you suddenly had that _thing_ trained on me and were going on about homework or something." Ethan regarded the gun as if it were a mutant virus that turned people into sludge monsters from fantasy worlds he had read about as a kid.

Drew sighed, using one of his now free hands to run his fingers through his waving brown hair.

"Jock Strap over there," he waved vaguely at the football player sitting at Ethan's table, ignoring the quarter back's whimper of fear. "kept making lame-ass jokes about me and my unpopularity, and at a particularly lame one you began laughing. And I've had to deal with you pricks since Elementary, and I've finally had enough. So I brought my little friend to school with me to resolve the situation. You just happened to be the one who started the extermination." Drew smiled fondly at the gun in his left hand, gazing at it as if it were Jesus himself.

"Drew, I wasn't laughing." said Ethan, who had to fight very hardly not to roll his eyes. "I was coughing. _Coughing._ Not laughing."

"It was a laugh." Drew insisted stubbornly, frowning again.

"It was a cough." Ethan repeated firmly. "That chemical Mr. Phil set on my table was giving me an allergic reaction, and I was trying incredibly hard to hold the coughs in so I wouldn't get sent out for "illness" and miss another chance to improve my grade, since this sack of marbles does nothing to help during the expiriments." He sent the jock a rather icy glare, showing that even though he was in danger, he was still holding a grudge over his partner's lack of participation.

"Yeah, right. That's the lamest excuse I've ever heard someone give. You're just trying to cover up that face that you were kissing up to him because you thought he was superior to everyone else in this school." Drew shook his head in disgust, sneering grotequely. "But look who's got the upper-hand now! The nerd, holding a gun to you that's level with the most vital organ of the human body."

"Actually, that'd be the brain, genius," Ethan corrected. "The heart does pump blood and whatever, but without the brain, it wouldn't be able to do anything at all."

"Shut. _Up._" Drew hissed, shaking the gun around for emphisis.

"I'm only trying to help you out." Ethan defended, holding his hands up in front of his chest.

"Yeah, right." Drew said sarcastically, shaking his head. "You're only trying to suck up to me now because I could kill you if I wanted to. Really great, Ethan. You're almost acting like a whore right now."

"A whore?" The look on Ethan's face match that of a person who'd just had to go dumper diving to retreive their engagement ring. "You were just acusing me of laughing at a jock's joke that was aimed at you, and you're now calling me a whore? This conversation is rediculous."

"Maybe to you, but you aren't the one who's been tormented your whole life." Drew's bravado ego calmed, and was replaced by a haunted teenager who only wanted a way out of his own personal Hell.

"Drew, I've never done anything to intentionally hurt you." Ethan said softly, looking into Drew's eyes with honesty. "We're from the same clique, Drew. We're the geeks of Whitechapel, right? I don't know about any of the other cliques, but I know that if you're classified as an Underdog, you don't go against your own kind for anyone or anything. It's a known rule. We're all just really good friends, and we stick together because so many of us are hurt anyways that we'd rather die than do that purposely to our own kind."

"That's not true-"

"It is." Ethan spoke, softly again, but it was enough to shut Drew up. "Do you remember that time when Rory had gotten attacked by the football players during practice and they strung him up by his jeans on the goal post? We all ditched fourth and fifth period to help him down, even though it earned us all detention. Or that one time when Jake had gotten a swirly and Benny gave him his own shirt to wear since his was wet? He didn't even mind having to wear nothing but a sweat shirt all day as long as Jake didn't have to walk around with soaking clothes on. And remember that one time when Rebecca had poured pop all over your homework and I let you copy every single assignment during home room? You got some of the easy ones wrong, but hey, at least you got it done, right?"

Ethan paused to let Drew mull all of the recollections around in his head, almost wanting to smile as the dead straight aim on his chest drifted as Drew hesitated. The other boy was looking between him and the tiled flooring beneath his feet with a battle raging on his head, biting his lip antically as he tried to decide what his next move should be.

"We don't turn against eachother in our group, Drew, and you know it. No jock, cheerleader, prep or whoever is worth our friendship, for as _Dora The Explorer_ as that sounds. We've all always got eachother's backs."

Drew looked up at him finally, firmly, and he began to slightly lower the gun until it was closer to his naval and slightly cocked to the side. Ethan nodded, smiling in encouragment, and he willed with every screaming bit of his brain for Drew to just give in and throw the gun to the floor. But Drew was still slightly apprehensive, and Ethan didn't know what else he could say that would calm Drew enough down to snap out of his insane state of mind. So he just stood there for a moment, staring silently back at Drew, waiting for the other boy to make the first move.

"H-have you ever found any of the jock's jokes to be f-funny?" Drew asked timidly, his hands shaking slightly from the strain of trying to choose what to do.

"Never." Ethan said, shaking his head. "Most of them make no sense, or are just so incorrect that it's sickening."

"Hey-" the jock next to him seem to snap out of his shocked stupor and he opened his mouth to protest, his face contorting slightly.

"Don't say anything." Ethan hissed from between his teeth. Drew didn't seem to react to the minuscule skirmish, but chose to stare Ethan awhile more, trying to decide whether or not to except his answer.

"Please, Drew," Ethan tried. "You don't want to do this. Jail isn't worth a small misunderstanding."

"There was no misunderstanding about this-" Drew bristled, pulling the gun back up a few inches.

"No, that's not what I ment!" Ethan replied, holding his hands up again, trying to prevent another episode of fighting. "I ment that the sound I made was different to both of us. You though it was a laugh, but honestly, Drew, it was a cough." Ethan looked at him with all of the sincerity his body could muster, eyes almost glowing. "You have to trust me."

Drew looked as though he really wanted to trust Ethan like he usually did, but there was still that broken, niggling part of him that wouldn't let himself believe that his friend was harmless.

"Do you want me to prove to you that it was a cough, and not a laugh?" Ethan suggested.

Drew thought about it for a moment, and saw no harm in it, so he nodded and waited to see what Ethan would do with nervousness eating at his stomach.

Ethan turned to take ahold of the glass beaker full of green liquid that was still supposed to be sitting on his table, and started as he saw nothing on the table, and rather the remains on the ground in a heap of glass and electric-colored chemical. Realizing now that it must have been the beaker he'd shattered when standing up, Ethan blushed, and looked up at a now slightly impatient Drew.

"Um," he began, gesturing towards the broken beaker. "I broke mine, so... I guess I'll just use Benny's, okay?"

Still holding his hands up, Ethan kept eye contact with Drew as he manuvered his way across the isle, taking small, precautionate steps to assure that he was no threat to the other boy. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, even Mr. Philmore could do no more than watch what was going on, and Ethan couldn't help but bitter-sweetly think that his situation reminded him of a soap opera he'd had to watch with Benny's grandmother one time. They had both said they'd hated it, but later on they were sneaking up to Benny's bedroom to watch some more of it online, shouting in unison as each scandle had been portrayed by the characters and cooing at the characters who kissed or professed their love for eachother. Ethan wanted to laugh at the recollection, but was afraid of breaking the tense atmosphere, or upsetting Drew with the action, so he bit his lip in a look of faux concentration and stood silently next to Benny, still looking at the other boy with a gun.

"How do you plan on proving to me that you were coughing, and not laughing?" Drew asked him timidly.

"With the chemical that Mr. Philmore gave us." Ethan said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Drew eyed him scornfully, but let him continue on anyways, gun beginning to quiver in his hands. Ethan sent him one more calming look, before turning around to pick up the beaker still situated on the corner of Benny's desk, his held-in breath exiting him in a small woosh. His gazed flickered up to Benny's, and he saw with his heart expanding that Benny was incredibly frightened by the situation; not for the gun or Drew's uncharacteristic behavior, but because his best friend was in danger and he could do nothing to help him.

Benny spoke quietly, so the word only sounded like a faint stirring of the wind. "Ethan-"

"I'm fine, Benny." Ethan replied, smiling faintly, before taking ahold of the beaker and turning back around to face Drew.

"What are you going to do with it?" Drew asked.

"Smell it. Well, actually," Ethan paused, glancing sideways at a still very timid Benny, sending him a warning with the way his eyes flashed. "I was going to use Benny as part of my proof, and make him smell it, too. You know, to show that I'm just one of those people who are allergic to the chemical by chance?"

"Benny?"

"Okay," It came out as more of a hoarse whisper, but Drew heard it due to the lack of noise, and motioned for Ethan to continue on with whatever it was that he was planning to do. He figured that if Benny was involved, Ethan wouldn't do anything stupid that could cause a problem, because Ethan and Benny were like a package of _Twix_; they were never seperated and were always equal with eachother. And in the dangerous situation all three of them were now in, Drew knew that Ethan would rather be cut limb from limb trying to protect the taller boy than to let anything hurt him, and he took a rather large amount of comfort in the thought.

Ethan flashed a smile at him, before turning to the side again and holding out the beaker full of chemical to Benny's face.

"Smell it, Benny." Ethan said, thanking him with his eyes once again. Benny returned the look and stuck his nose over the opening of the beaker, inhaling deeply. All he did was crinkle up his nose and lean away, finding distaste in the acidic vinegar smell it produced. "See, he's not effected by it like I am."

Drew nodded, and waited for Ethan to take his turn, glancing almost curiously between the two friends as they interacted only between looks flashing in their eyes. He'd known them for so long that he knew their looks were those of comfort, and suddenly he began to feel guilty for going through with his plan.

"And when I smell this stuff, I start to have a reaction to it," Ethan concluded, shaking up the chemical unnecissarily. He lifted the beaker his nose just as he had done for Benny and inhaled the fumes directly, bracing himself for the hacking storm that was surely to erupt from inside of him.

There was a moment of silence, before Ethan's throat began burning and he coughed it out, his body racking with them and his eyes watering and closing just as they had before. He fumbled to set the chemical down on the table, missing because he could no longer see, and he felt someone take the glass bottle from him, knowing it was Benny without even having to look because everytime the other boy touched him, it was as though the entire butterfly exhibit at the Science Center came to life and fluttered around inside of him. Ethan managed to somewhat open his eyes, the water pooling in them blurring everything again, but he saw nothing that could harm him and he staggered away hastily from his friend to free himself from the chemical fumes. He stood in the middle of the isle-way, one arm curled around his heaving stomach and the other covering his mouth.

Pausing, Ethan's coughs finally died away and he could breath and see again, the breaths coming from his mouth wheezy and dragging in his throat. He blinked up at a now convinced looking Drew, wiping away the rest of the tears, and he breathed deeply to get rid of the other coughs working their way up his body.

"See? I wasn't laughing at you, Drew. The chemical was put right in front of me, and I had an allergic reaction to it. I just decided to let the cough out at the wrong time, I guess." Ethan gave him a ghost of a smile, still showing that even though this catasrophy had happened, he was still on Drew's side and that he wasn't at all angry at the boy for going to such extremities.

Drew looked at him, his entire body shaking now, and finally after sharing a long look with Ethan, he saw that Ethan didn't in fact laugh at him the way everyone else had. And suddenly he felt like a child, holding up his dad's revolver and aiming it at the other boy as if he'd been the one to threaten to murder someone. He felt his wall of certainty crumble around him, and he slouched in defeat, his gaze dropping in shame.

"Like I said before, Drew, no one in our group would ever go against you."

Drew looked up from his converse to see Ethan slithering closer to him, hands held back up in front of him, but closer to his stomach rather than his chest. Drew's uneasiness crept back up, but he tried to push it back down in vain, yelling to himself in his head that Ethan ment no harm, and that it was just his protective nature over himself kicking in.

Ethan opened his mouth to say something else, his brain finally starting to kick up some of the Language Arts words he had learned over the years, but he was suddenly falling forwards, his feet flailing over eachother. In his Dr. Phil/ninja state, Ethan had failed to notice that one set of the laces on his shoes were undone and he had stepped on them, trapping the foot beneath the other and sending himself forwards. Drew must have taken this as a sign of attack and freaked out, because Ethan's ears were suddenly ringing the long explosion of a gun fire, and people screaming around him.

There was a collective silence around the Chemistry classroom, everyone either breathing heavily in fright or not at all, holding their breath to see if anyone had gotten shot. No one was sobbing in agony, though, so gradually in the shocked silence people looked around at eachother, questioning their friends to see if they'd been the ones who'd been hurt and just hadn't noticed it yet. But finding no one, everyone's gazes finally turned back to a wide-eyed Drew, and a suprised looking Ethan, who was now holding onto his stomach.

Ethan was silent the entire time, looking back at Drew with a bewildered expression. He was sure that he had had Drew's emotions under control, but the trip of his feet must have messed everything up, because now Drew had fired and Ethan was covering his abdominal rather confusedly. He didn't know why he was craddling his hand against the stretch of his stomach that almost reached his hip bone, but he was, and he was frowning to himself in wonder. He looked down from Drew's startled expression to the front of his body and pulled his hand away from the spot he was covering, his hand sticking to his shirt.

And all Ethan saw for a moment was a puddle of red. The hole now through his shirt was barely the size of a dime, and Ethan realized with a jerk of suprise that it was a bullet hole, the small, brass stretch of metal now lodged somewhere inside of his lower body. His hand had a smear of red across the palm, and he recognized it as blood, his spine freezing up again at the sight. He wasn't queasy around wounds and the works since he'd already seen so much of gorey stuff like it in his lifetime, but he felt the rest the blood draining from his face as he realized what this ment.

Drew had shot him.

Ethan looked back up at Drew, who was now gaping at the hole in Ethan's body, his arms dropping to his sides and the entire situation beforehand escaping their minds just as quickly as it had begun. Ethan opened his mouth, reaching for the speech-words he'd gathered up right before he had tripped and screwed everything up, but now they were only whisps of thoughts, and Ethan could reach none of them. The blood was starting to extract from the wound faster, acting as though someone had turned on a water tap, and he knew that he only had so much time before he was going to pass out from blood loss.

So Ethan just said the first thing that came to his mind that seemed to fit the situation adequitly.

"I'm sorry." he wheezed.

And suddenly it was as though his body were on fire. The pain was dull at first, nothing that resembled more than a bee sting, but it seemed like someone had lit a match on his body internally, and now every part of him was aflame, starting with his side. Ethan cried out, the sound almost like a lion's roar, and he squeezed his eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to ebb away the pain as it spread outwards from the bullet wound to his thighs and chest. His knees buckled beneath him from the strain of getting rid of the Inferno within his body, and he was vaguely aware of someone shouting his name as he fell to the ground, his knees hitting the tiled flooring with an almost bruising force. He clutched at his side to try and get rid of the pain, or stop the hot and coppery smelling blood from flowing from his body, and through his red-hazed mind, Ethan was suddenly reminded of the situation he had been in at the dance with Jesse and Sarah, and his body panicked even more, the wound pulsating beneath his fingers.

Someone was now clutching onto him, arms around his shoulders, and they were pushing him backwards onto the ground and frantically saying his name over and over again. Ethan knew that voice anywhere (he could pick it out in a rock concert if he wanted to) and forced himself to open his eyes, whining as his body protested and the overhead lights blinded him.

Benny was looming over him, the look on his face scaring Ethan even more through his pain, and he gave his friend a questioning look as to why he was shouting. Benny just batted it away and looked down at Ethan's hands, which were still covering up the bullet wound protectively, and he pried them away, placing something that resembled a jacked over it and pressing down hardly on it. Ethan moaned, pain erupting from the added pressure and he tried to squirm away, but Benny took a hand away and cupped Ethan's cheek with it, effectivly holding him still.

"I know it hurts, E, but this is the only way I can make it stop until the ambulance gets here." Benny's voice was low and calming, even though his eyes spoke an entirely different story, and it made Ethan's own panic wash away slightly.

"It hurts, Benny." Ethan murmured, his lip curling as a sharp stab of pain rocketed throughout his entire body.

"I know, Ethan. Just try to relax, okay? The paramedics are on their way."

Ethan was vaguely aware of people screaming and shouting hysterically in the backround and he tried to lift himself up to see what was going on, but a strong hand on his shoulder kept him down, and he looked back at Benny with a tiny amount of annoyance.

"Ethan, you have to lay still or else this won't work. I have t-to try stop the blood flow. If you move, it won't work right and you'll lose too much blood, and-" Benny cut himself off with a choking sound, and for the first time Ethan realized that Benny was crying, the tears rushing down his cheeks at such an alarming rate that they washed together and looked just like a shiny patch of skin. Ethan's panic returned at the sight of his best friend trying not to sob and he reached out, this time being the one to cup the other's cheek; it had been such a long time since Benny last cried, and Ethan was still trying to get used to the sight of it because of the rarity of when it happened.

"Benny, calm down." Ethan hushed him, fingers tingling as Benny subcontiously leaned into his touch. Their brown eyes met and Ethan's chest heaved as all of the breath he had left was stolen from him, his sickly pale cheeks flushing with an almost embarrassed heat as they stared back at one another. And suddenly they both understood eachother.

They were in love.

Ethan smiled fondly up at his taller friend, feeling his contiousness slipping from him, and he was suddenly okay with the thought of death if it came down to that. Benny knew how he felt, since they were always best at communicating through different looks, and Ethan knew that he'd felt the same all along. Sure, he was upset that he hadn't built up enough courage to say anything before, but now that he knew, he was strangely okay with the halfway admition to it.

"Benny-"

Benny silenced him almost immediatly with his free hand, leering down at Ethan with all the emotion he could manage put into his gaze.

"If you're going to give me the 'My Final Words' speech, I don't want to hear it. Don't you _dare_ plan on dying on me, Ethan Morgan, or God so help me I will resurrect you from your grave and make your ghost haunt the Earth for all of eternity."

Ethan laughed, ignoring the sharp flash of agony that erupted from his stomach, and he shook his head against the tile flooring.

"Of course not." he giggled.

Benny grinned down at him, a few more tears escaping, and he removed his hand from Ethan's mouth in order to let the injured boy speak.

Ethan sobered, looking straight up into Benny's eyes unabashedly, and suddenly everything memory they had together and every emotion he had expierienced with the other flashed through him, and he almost exploded as though he were in a Super Nova, the passion racing through his body making him thrum with the life he had left in himself.

"I just wanted to say that you're the best friend anyone could ever have. We fight occasionally over stupid stuff, like food and videogames, and it makes me incredibly happy that we're so close. And this whole thing has only just now made me realize how stupid we act, so please promise me that when I get better," Ethan mentally thought 'If', but decided not to say that to the distraught boy hovering above him. "we'll work on not being so reckless and irrational. Because if you ever get hurt like this, someone's going to die, and I'm going to go to prision."

Benny laughed, another one of his trademark grins appearing on his face, and his grip on the jacket over Ethan's wound tightened, a part of him still completely focased on stopping the blood from pouring out.

"I promise, Ethan."

"Good, because-"

Ethan let out another sudden cry of pain as the fire inside of him flarred up again, consuming his entire body this time. He arched off of the ground, aching for some relievance, but the movement only caused his body to snap with protest and for Benny's pressure on the wound to increase. He whined feebily, squeezing his eyes shut, and he used all of his inner strength to try and shove away the flames encasing his internal organs.

"Ethan!" Benny cried out, attempting to settle him back onto the cold, tile flooring. Ethan just writhed away from his touch, shouting incoherrency at nothing in particular, and he bucked upwards again as the fire froze, and then made a strike at his bullet wound.

"Make it stop!" he pleaded with Benny, who was so frightened by the situation at hand that he was turning green, and gestured wildly at the entirity of his body. "Please, Benny, make it stop!"

"I can't, E, I don't know how to!" Benny yelled back, applying even more tightness to the hold on the jacket. It shot another scortch of lightning up Ethan's spine and he pressed his scalding cheek into the ground, sobbing as the burning sensation in his body increased another notch.

He lay still then, letting Benny press the jacket down onto the hole in his abdominal, and let the tears of both pain and frustration roll down his face as the sobs jerked his body upwards. Benny was muttering to himself about his friend, sounding as frantic and hysterical as the people swarming above them, staring fearfully down at a still very bloody Ethan and praying with everything he had that the boy was going to survive. He had to.

Ethan could feel the blackness he had so far successfully suppressed working its way through his system, and knew that he had only seconds of conciousness left. Using the rest of his remaining strength, he reached up to the hand that was still laying against his chest and he took it, regaining Benny's attention from his wound to his slowly slacking face.

"Benny, it's coming."

"What is, Ethan? What are you talking about?" he asked, looking even more frightened than before.

"Unconciousness."

Benny's heart sank deeply in his chest, almost dropping out of his stomach, but kept his head high, the tears reforming in his eyes, and he squeezed Ethan's hand back.

"I'm sorry that I'm not strong enough to hold on any longer." Ethan sniffled, gripping back tighter.

Benny shook his head almost immediatly, ignoring the words of regret.

"It's not your fault, Ethan. Stop apologizing for something you didn't do, dammit!"

Benny was deffinatly becoming hysterical now.

Ethan stared up at his face for a moment, just breathing softly, trying to mentally capture the darkly beautiful look that was sunken into Benny's facial expression. But he honestly didn't need to; he had spent so many minuets, hours, even small glimpses that lasted a second studying the other boy's face that all it took for him to bring it to the surface was the flutter of his eyelashes against his cheeks, and suddenly there he was, shooting his dazzling grin at Ethan and laughing about something that had been rather humorous at the moment. It was one memory he held close to him in particular that he always thought of, because even though the day hadn't held much significance to anyone other than him, it never ceased to make him smile to himself. It was of the two of them sitting in the old field on the outskirts of town, their bodies stretched out in the grass beneath the warm summer sun, and Ethan had made some sort of joke about a comic book he'd just read that had sent Benny into such a state of laughter that the laughs themselves were silent, and he was clutching onto his stomach to make sure it wouldn't explode. Ethan thought of it at that moment, there on the classroom floor, and suddenly the fire comsuming his body was balmy, like an embrace. It made Ethan smile softly, just as he always did.

"Benny, can you promise me something else? It's the last thing, I swear."

The lights surrounding them were dimming around the blackness invading Ethan's vision, but it didn't concern him. It just made him smile and relax fully against the floor, the fire streaming away until it was replaced by the most beautiful feeling numbness, like the kind people felt after they cried their eyes out and fell asleep, slipping away into the world where dreams occured more often than nightmares.

Benny took a shaky breath, his entire body quivering as he inhaled, and he tried to see Ethan through the sheet of tears pooled up in his eyes.

"Anything, Ethan." He gave the smaller boy's hand a tight squeeze, this time not letting up on the hold as he awaitnig Ethan's final request for him.

The numbness was creeping slowly up his chest now, gently carressing his slowly beating heart, soothing him, and he told Benny to lean closer as his throat began to close up. Benny leaned down, the shadow of his body falling over Ethan's, and he tilted his head to the side so that his ear was slightly closer to Ethan's mouth than his eyes.

Ethan's grip on his hand became even tighter, and with a happy sigh, his face brightened, and he whispered the four words that he'd always wanted to say to Benny when the other boy was upset, or quiet and thoughtful.

"Don't ever stop smiling."

Benny's heart momentarily stopped as Ethan breathed out the small sentence into his ear, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling with delight, before his brain computed what exactly had been said. He looked at Ethan fully this time, his face a mixture of anger, sorrow, and something most people would identify as love; raw, unadulterated, pure, love. Ethan smiled at him, a faint bubble of something close to a laugh escaping from in between his lips, and Benny thought his heart was going to explode from his chest onto the floor in front of him.

Ethan let his eyes wander around Benny's face one last time, admiring each and every quirk of the bone structure he'd memorized years ago, and with one final whisp of a smile, Ethan closed his eyes and let the darkness wash over him as he recounted that day out in the field. The sun illuminating Benny's figure and bouncing off of his teeth was the last thing he saw before falling backwards into a pit of inky blackness.

The grip on Benny's hand became slack, and almost slid out of the other's hand; but Benny was still gripping onto it as if he were stranding out at sea and the only bouy he had was Ethan's hand. The smaller boy's chest was still rising, shallowly, but Benny knew that he still had some time before Ethan's body gave out from lack of blood, and that thought gave him a small, warm sliver of comfort.

But the rest of him was suddenly consumed with a fire very simular to the one that had taken over Ethan's body, but this kind of fire wasn't produced by a sever wound.

This kind of fire was kindled by rage.

Benny's teary vision was clouded over by a red haze, and without even realizing it, he had risen to his feet, the jacket pressing down on the bullet wound forgotten as he stood to his full height and kept his eyes trained on Ethan. The sight of his best friend laying on the ground, unconcious with his blood everywhere but inside of him, was making his well-kept anger flare to life, and suddenly his chest was heaving with fury. He must have resembled a bull, breathing heavily out of his nose, and he felt like one too because the sight of the color red was driving him up a wall.

"Benny..." a very familiar and unwelcome name tentively said his name and he turned around, remembering that there were others in the room with him. There were only around six people standing behind him, gazing worriedly between him and Ethan in shock, but the rest of the class was towards the front, holding securily onto a sickly white Drew. Wyatt, the expert hunter of Whitechapel High, was clutching onto Drew's revolver in his hands, the bullets scattered around on someone's desk, and he was looking at it in both discust and a bizarre sense of curiosity.

The shade of red in the corners of Benny's eyes turned a deep crimson color as he stared back at a spluttering Drew, and the niggling voice that he had pushed away that had been going on about someone's faulties was brought forth once more, and he was only able to process one personality clearly.

_He's the one who shot Ethan, _Benny's accusation voice said. _He's the one who shot him, Benny. Drew's the person that nearly killed Ethan. Drew's the insane one here, the one who caused all of the trouble, but Ethan's the one dying on the floor. What are you gonna do about it, huh? Are you just going to let him go when he's the one who hurt your best friend? _

Clenching his hands into shaking fists, Benny suddenly let an animalistic scream rip from his throat and he threw himself at Drew, dancing rather stealthfully around Ethan's body.

_"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" _he yelled, the accusational voice in his head cheering him on. It was as though a monster had taken over his body, a beast that only come out under the full moon at midnight, but he had nothing left within himself to hold it back; it was as though the leash on his anger had finally broken and he was all out of will power and _Super-Glue_.

A pair of arms caught him before he could reach the white-palored geek, though, and dragged him backwards, saying his name over and over again in his ear to try and get him to calm down. But the anger just wouldn't go away, and now that he was being restrained, it only increased tenfold and he thrashed around in the person's arms, trying to pry himself loose. But the person just held him closer, muttering for him to get a grip onto himself, and they took most of Benny's raging blows without so much as a grunt.

Looking down at the arms holding onto his chest and waist to see if he could claw them off, Benny saw a jacket made of red leather with white cuffs with black devil horns on the inside and knew that it was the jock who sat next to Ethan that was holding onto him. He was also the only nerd of Whitechapel who happened to know his name.

"Put me down _now_, Austin!" he snarled, kicking out at nothing in particular.

"Benny, you need to relax. You're making a scene." Austin hissed in his ear, ducking his head to avoid an upper cut to the jaw by Benny's elbow.

"I don't give a rat's flying ass if I'm making a scene. _He,_"Benny spat the word out as if it were the most repulsive thing in the world, pointing wildly over at a trembling Drew, his finger shaking visibly in the suspended air. "nearly killed Ethan! He just _shot _my best friend, and you want me to _calm down?_"

"I know it's upsetting-"

"You don't know _anything!_" Benny roared, continuing on with his squirming. "You didn't just watch your best friend pass out from lack of blood on the fucking floor of Chemistry! You hardly know the difference between tin and iron, and you think you have enough validation to tell me that you understand what it's like to watch someone you've known your entire like slip away? You don't have a sliver of qualification to tell me a damn thing about death, Austin!"

"I'm sorry," he said to Benny as he held onto him tighter, his own eyes prickling. "I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to sympathize with you."

"I don't want your pity." Benny growled.

"Okay, I'm sorry. But hurting him's not going to make Ethan get better. The ambulance is almost here, Benny, so calm down!"

"You know what, Austin, it's your fault this entire thing happened!" Benny suddenly concluded. "If you had just left Drew alone and quit festering at him, he wouldn't have been pushed to the limit and shot anyone!"

"I'm sorry!" Austin cried, a tear slipping down his face. "I didn't mean for it to go this far!"

"Well it did!" Benny felt the anger drain out of him as quickly as it had come, and as the sudden shift in mood change left him bitter and cold instead of burning with hatred, Benny felt the sobs racking up in his chest starting to escape, and his knees buckled, the hold around his mid-section tightening as he fell towards the floor. "And now he's dying."

Austin, and everyone else in the class, for that matter, just stared silently at Benny as he began to come undone, his sobs echoing loudly around the classroom. His chest heaved so hardly that he was sure it would crack open, and his lungs burned, but nothing could stop the fat, remorseful tears from falling down his face. He hung limply in the backwards circle of Austin's muscular arms, his head hanging, and he just let it all out. And everyone let him, recollecting with pangs of sadness that death was nothing new to Benny Weir, and some of the people in the room cried right along with him, the blanket of coldness wrapping everyone in an itchy embrace. Not a single person's heart was light nor were anyone's eyes dry, but some were able to contain themselves in the dire situation.

After a few minuets of this, people staring bleakly around at nothing or everything, tears stinging their cheeks, the paramedics from the local hospital finally arrive, along with the police, and they walked into the room after confirming that they wouldn't cause anymore problems. The paramedics wooshed around Ethan like a flock of birds, throwing words back and forth at eachother that no one comprehended, and Austin gentley moved Benny away from the mess by his arms after finally letting Benny out of the lock of his arms. Benny just stared blankly at them as they wormed a stretcher underneath Ethan's limp body, a woman frantically yelling something at the leader of the group about pulse-related problems and 'lack of bodily fluids'. Benny smiled without emotion or color at those words, almost wanting to turn to the boy who wouldn't be standing next to him to roll his eyes at the obviousness of the situation; of course the body on the floor was lacking a strong pulse and blood. He had been shot for Christ's sake.

Benny didn't even watch the police escorting a tearful Drew out of the building, his glasses and eyes alike splotchy and blood-shot, his attention fixed both raptly and lazily at the sight of paramedics gostling Ethan's body around, finally making it to their feet with the stretcher held in between the four of them.

And as they carried him out of the classroom door, heading towards the exit, he remembered with a jolt that people were allowed to ride with others in the ambulance to the hospital.

Shaking off Austin's grip and defending his inquires, Benny slipped gracefully out of the haunting classroom and ran down to the medics carrying Ethan's body out to the ambulance, having to go as fast as he could to catch up to them; they were already at the exit when he'd realized he could accompany Ethan to the ER. Rushing out into the bleak sunlight of the beautiful autumn day, Benny hurried over to the ambulance, where other medics inside of the vehicle were loading Ethan onto the table in the middle of the small space.

He stopped beside a woman with a kind face, sucking in breath, and he gently tapped her shoulder. She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

"C-can I ride along? With him to the hospital?" he heaved out, panting lightly. The woman smiled softly at him, her expression knowledgeful, and she nodded, stepping aside to let the boy hoiste himself up into the ambulance before the other medics could.

Benny immediatly parked himself on Ethan's side, eyes glued onto his still remarkably breathing body, and out of nothing but habit he reach out and took ahold of Ethan's still warm hand in his, propping his elbows up on the plush leather table. He held the hand close to his face, lips almost ghosting over the lithe fingers, and he struggled to regain his composure so he wouldn't break down in front of around six adults.

"You're gonna be okay, Ethan. I know you will be. You have to be!" Benny babbled at the unconious boy next to him, his voice starting to regain the same hysterical tone. He knew that if he tried to say anything else he would end up doing something dumb, or get himself escourted off of the ambulance and instead to his house, so instead he place a brief, loving kiss on the ripple of Ethan's knuckles and held his hand tighter, eyes never leaving his face.

Benny always liked to believe that one day he would be given a miracle when he needed one most, like everyone else seemed to attain, and sometimes he didn't think it'd ever come. But that hope and desperation for the miracle blossomed like a poppy flower in his chest as the paramedics closed the doors behind themselves, signalling for the driver to go, and the hand of Ethan's he was holding twitched slightly and kind of gripped back.

**A/N: You guys are allowed to yell at me now for not updating this story for nearly a year. Buuutt, an insanely cool and amazing person by the penname of Popsicle-Apocalypse finally made me realize that I needed to hurry the fuck up and write this so no one would end up shooting me in the face :) So, here it is! The last part should be done soon, because I'm getting a new laptop, but I have to go to camp and move into a new house, blah blah, so I hope this will be good enough for you guise. Sorry not only for the lateness of this chapter (duh) but for the length of it, because I wanted to make sure I got it ALL down before the inspirtaion to write it left me. I hope you liked it, and if not, then you guys are still allowed to yell at me for producing garbage work. And if it didn't satisfy your taste, I'll write a story of whatever you'd like about Bethan just to cheer you up. Sound fair? **

**That was my pathetic attempt at saying that I love requests, and that I'm pathetically asking for someone to respond to it :) Just ignore it if you dislike people who beg and shit for that kind of stuff. And you know what, I like the first chapter how it is because it shows how much my writing has grown over the last year, so it's staying it's crappy way :)**


	3. A Recollection And A Revelation

_**A/N: Sorry D: I'll explain my MIA-ness at the end. And also, I know this seems totally unrealistic- no one gets to leave a hospital eight hours after being shot, but I thought this up a year and a half ago when I was young and foolish- bare with me lovelies. **_

A fire. A fire is what he remembers most clearly, and even the image of a thousand flames encasing him in a hold is blurry, and vague. It's hot everywhere, burning to the touch, and no matter where he turns, there's always more fire; everything is turning to black, sharded remains around him, including himself, but he knows that he is not dying of smoke inhalation, though the pain in his chest is horrid. There is no grey fog in front of his eyes or slowly filling into his lungs- he is dying because of the growing flames around himself, ones that are coiling themselves around him and burning him alive from the outside inwards, and he can do nothing to stop them or push them away. It's as though a hand in reaching into his heaving chest, squeezing at his wheezing heart, and slowly pulling it back out through the hole that had been dug by the limb's fingernails.

He is in excruciating pain, and has no idea why.

But then the pain stops; the flames are gone, as though someone threw a bucket of water over the kindling oranges and yellows, killing them and taking the light with their existence. He is now encased in a blackness that is almost as thick as the fire, but he can sense an eerie grey light twinkling in from somewhere off in the distance, and he wants to reach out for it, for a piece of certainty, but it's just out of reach. And he can't move his arm, anyways, nor bend his wrist or wiggle his fingers. In fact, his entire body is numb, as though the fire stole his motor skills along with the almost blinding light around him, and he is left lying on the ground, immobile, and wondering where exactly it is that he is.

It's calm, though, and even though he can't feel a single thing other than his chest rising with intake of breath, it's better than the pain that had enveloped his entire existence seconds before. He prefers the numbness to the burning of his skin, and the clawing at his heart.

But it's awful lonely in this dark, calm place. The pain is gone, but now that he thinks about it, he doesn't even know where he is, and how the fire started to begin with. He looks around himself, trying to probe through the darkness with his eyes, but all he can see is the budding shadows everywhere and the irritatingly close wane light in the distance.

And suddenly there's a voice somewhere in this strange, dark place. He can't tell if the voice is coming from upwards, downwards, left or right- but he does know that there's another being in the room with him, and that alone is enough to fill him with hope that he's not stranded and alone, after all.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his tongue and gums and throat are all as dry as sandpaper. He gets out no more than a breathy gasp before his uvula locks up, and he can say no more. He licks his lips, swallows, and even tries clearing his throat, but there's no moisture within his body. So he lies there on the ground, trying to coax his body into cooperating with him, and praying to God that whoever is there with him will find him in the dark.

The voice is getting louder, and he almost thinks that there's more than one, now. There seems to be multiple octaves and owners of a voice, but he suddenly wonders if he's just losing his mind, and there's really no one there with him at all, and he's just going to die in the dark, alone, and forgotten.

But no, there has to be more than one voice- maybe even more than two. All the of the voices are familiar, his brain skipping rope around itself to try and pull forth the memory of hearing those voices, but for the love of everything beautiful he can't recall who it is that's speaking around him. One voice, he knows, belongs to a male, and the other (maybe others) belong to a female. This is all he knows for certain.

His heart sinks as the voices begin to get softer, and he fears that these familiar strangers are going to leave him, after all, in this foreign place. He desperately tries to moisten his lips and throat to call out after them, but the attempt is once more vain, and he can do no more than rasp out a guttural squeak. And the people around him soften their voices even more so, and a wave of helplessness crashes over him heavily.

Then the voices are almost screaming at the top of their lungs, piercing his ears and mind and every inch of his body, and he's falling forwards into a pit with no bottom, head over heels, and sickeningly fast.

xXxXx

Blinking against the sudden light, Ethan opened his eyes for what felt like the first time in years. His eyelids were incredibly heavy, as though someone had attached sandbags to his lids in order to hold them shut, and reaching up, it took a few rubs to get them to work properly.

And raising his arms up was no stroll in the park, either; they were stiff, much like the rest of his body, as he discovered upon trying to stretch himself out, and it took a moment of reaching upwards and rolling of the shoulders to work out all of the kinks. The popping of his joints ached for a moment, causing him to wince, but once he had stilled again with less stiffness amongst his bones, he was perfectly fine.

Well, except for the stinging beginning to build up in his side, but he mentally cast it aside, disregarding the heat as something he'd done on his and Benny's last supernatural extravaganza.

Speaking of the brunette, Ethan wondered where, exactly, he was; last he remembered, the two of them were walking to school together, quarreling lamely over which video game was better- Overkill, or Dead Space 2. There had also been internal thoughts on the town's Halloween set-up, of which Ethan either found to be incredibly cheesy or surprisingly cool. That was just one half, though- the other was dreading over going to school, because high school was a bitch, and if he could have it his way, he would be sitting somewhere quiet, next to Benny, playing video games, having a Sci-Fi marathon- anything other than learning.

Maybe I was dreaming, Ethan said to himself. It certainly looked as though that were the case, because there was no Halloween decorum, no October breeze tugging idly at his hair, and no sense of dread overwhelming him from the inside out. And there was no Benny Weir, teasing him about being shit at killing animated extraterrestrials.

Instead, Ethan found himself to be in his bedroom at home, tucked comfortably into a sea of blankets, and the sun replaced by an over-cast of grayness. Doubly confused, he scrunched his face up cutely, trying to work out the muddled thoughts scrambling his brain; it must have been a dream, then, walking to school with his best friend and feeling as though he were slowly approaching the Grim Reaper. Maybe it was really a Sunday morning, a cloudy and rainy one, something not uncommon in their small Canadian town, and the thought that he still had a free day to himself made Ethan smile.

But the dream felt so real, a small voice worried in the back of his mind. Ethan fought off the urge to scoff at the voice, feeling rather ridiculous, and he wiggled around under all of the sheets to prep himself for getting out of all of the warmth. The only warmth it appeared he wouldn't be ditching was the prickling in his side, which was beginning to slowly intensify into a burning sensation, and frowning in discomfort, Ethan told himself that when he went to the bathroom, he would pop a few Aspirin, and hope for the pain to go away.

The pain, in fact, did not go away. As Ethan sat up and went to swing himself out of bed, all the burning did was double in amount, and suddenly the small teen was doubled over, gasping for air, and gripping tightly at the throbbing stitch in his side. He was reminded of a fire, something he must have dreamt about, as well, and the smell of gunpowder tickled his nose. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the smell gave him a sense of Deja Vu, though he couldn't remember being around any fired guns in the last couple of years.

He pushed away the thoughts of guns and fire, and focused on the pain in his body and making it stop.

"Mom." he cried out hoarsely. It barely came out above a whisper, like he hadn't drank anything in decades, and Ethan found his throat and mouth to be incredibly dry. As if he'd swallowed a mouthful of sand. "Mom."

Fat, hot tears began to roll down his cheeks as the fire began to spread, and vaguely, he thought that this sensation was familiar as well; being consumed in a furnace of pain and horror.

He attempted calling out his mother's name again, but this time the word caught in his throat, and he could say no more. Instead he coughed roughly, trying to get some sort of moisture circulating to his tongue, but his spit was out of commission, just like his memory.

But it seemed as though luck were on his side today, because a pair of light footsteps were making their way towards his bedroom, and Ethan felt hope poking out through the pain. They opened his door, and looking up, Ethan could see no more than a head full of dark hair and a red shirt, and automatically he thought that it was his mother. Though she seemed to have cut her hair shorter than he remembered.

"Mom." he gritted out. "Please, make it stop."

The person standing before him hurried to pop open a bottle of pills Ethan hadn't noticed were on his bedside table, but he greedily accepted the small capsule being pushed against his cracked lips. Opening his mouth, he took in the cool, plastic pill and the sudden rush of water, and he swallowed it down without a second thought. The medication made a satisfying weight in his burning stomach as it settled, the acid dissolving it at once, and he calmed down slightly as the pain began to recede ever so slightly.

A soothing voice that was certainly not his mother's shushed him, warm hands cupping his damp cheeks, thin fingers wiping away his tears, and without giving the stranger a second thought he leaned into their comforting touch.

"God, you look like a ghost, E."

Blinking open his eyes, suddenly, Ethan looked up and through the remaining tears he could faintly make out the wavering shape of his best friend towering above him. Well, that explained the hair and the voice.

Shakily, he reached up to scrub the moisture out of his eyes so that he could see Benny properly, and the clear image of the other boy melted even more of his pain.

But his description of Ethan could be reciprocated, because in a simple explanation, Benny looked like shit as well; there were frown lines covering his face, something Ethan didn't know could happen to a person over the period of such a short time, and his skin was a shallow, pasty color. His eyes lacked their usual comical gleam, and his face carried neither a happy smile nor an idiotic grin.

He looked as hurt and shaken as Ethan felt.

"You do, too." he said without thinking, and then laughed at the random words that had just spouted from his still dry mouth. The laughing stopped almost immediately when the jostling upset his side again, and he let his amusement settle into a small lopsided smile. Benny laughed back, but it sounded forced, and all around very, very un-Benny-esque.

It troubled Ethan more than the weird dreams swimming around in his head, or the fire receding in his ribs.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked him.

Benny's smile dropped fully in favor for a look of confusion, and he quirked an eyebrow up towards the ceiling.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

"Remember what?"

There was a moment of complete and utter silence, one that seemed to suffocate Ethan in the most uncomfortable way possible, before Benny broke it by sighing heavily, and achingly, and running his hands down his face, he took a seat next to Ethan. His shoulders hunched forwards, posture shot, and Ethan noticed for the first time that Benny looked incredibly exhausted- ready to pass out from sheer lack of sleep at any moment.

"It was in first hour." Benny started quietly, and Ethan hadn't remembered the teen ever talking so hushed before in the nine years of knowing him- not even when they were on a stakeout or mission. "We had just sat down to start with our Chemistry assignment, when that idiot, Austin, started antagonizing Drew. He kept pushing Drew, saying the most awful and stupid things, and I guess Drew just... snapped."

A sudden image of Drew's hand inching towards his jacket pocket flashed in Ethan's mind, and he wondered briefly if it was relevant to Benny's story.

"And the next thing I knew, he was shouting at you, and you were coughing up a lung because that fucking chemical was messing with your allergies, and he had a gun on you. He wanted you to stand up."

Shocked into place, Ethan took this into account, but kept on listening; he had a funny, aching feeling that he knew where this was going.

"At first, you didn't want to get up. B-but then he pointed the gun at me, and you were out of your seat before he got to two." Benny chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head, and on an impulse, Ethan reached out and took his hand in his own. Benny squeezed it tightly for an anchoring comfort. "You two fought for awhile, and you explained all of the reasons why you would never go against him and laugh at him. You reminded him of all of the good things you've done for him, and some of the things our other friends have done. And then you proved to him that you hadn't been laughing along with everyone else at Austin's jokes by using me as your guinea pig- I smelled the chemical first, and then you did."

Another image, this one of Benny wrinkling his nose the way Ethan loved so much for some odd reason.

"You coughed, and I didn't. In fact, I thought you were going to pass out from the lack of air going to your head until I took the chemical from you and you could breath again. And dammit, Ethan, you were so close to getting him to calm down." There were tears building up in Benny's eyes, for what seemed not to be the first time for that afternoon, and Ethan wished that whatever was biting at him would just _stop_. "You were so, _so _close to getting him to lower the gun, put it down, and just relax. But then you tripped, and..."

Benny groped for the words in the dark, fighting to find some that weren't such a slap in the face, but Ethan knew exactly what had happened without Benny needing to tell him.

"He shot me, didn't he?"

Flinching, Benny nodded, and he whined lightly as a few of the tears slipped out from the corners of his eyes.

"Just point blank, right in the side." he choked out; he still hadn't looked up at Ethan from his stare on the shorter boy's creamy carpet. "And then the rest is really just kind of a blur from there- everyone was screaming, you were collapsing onto the ground, and Drew was being held backwards as I jumped down next to you. And Jesus, Ethan, there was just so much blood. It was everywhere, a-and I thought I was going to be sick. But somehow I managed to remember that you're always supposed to put pressure on a major wound, so I pulled my jacket off and just pushed down, I guess."

His thumb stroked the back of Ethan's hand, almost subconsciously, but also in a very aware manor, and Ethan found it to be rather comforting. But that was as far as the comfort went, because suddenly, he could remember everything; the conversation, his anger, his regret, the agonizing pain, Benny's horrified face- all of it. He remembered the calmness in the middle of it, and then another round of fire, and then the soothing numb afterwards. And he remembered thinking about his favorite day with Benny, the memory of them sitting in the field by the outskirts of town, Benny laughing at something he'd said and Ethan marveling over his beauty in the summer sunlight.

He was brought out of his reverie by a squeeze on his hand, and looking back over at Benny, he was greeted by the wonderful sight of his eyes, instead of his ear, which Ethan had been staring at during the entire retelling of the morning. His face was pale, and he was shaking, and his eyes looked wounded and pink, but he was still breathtaking, and Ethan couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to.

But he was smiling, and this time, it was a real, genuine Benny smile, and Ethan practically melted through his floorboards.

"I really can't remember much that happened between you getting shot and riding next to you in the back seat when we got to take you home, but I do remember you saying something to me when I was holding you down, trying to get the blood to stop."

And that clicked into place, as well.

"Don't ever stop smiling." Ethan repeated, smiling back.

"Yeah." Benny nodded, some of the color reappearing in his skin. "I don't know why, but I don't think I'll ever forget it, E."

Ethan squeezed his hand again. "Good, because I don't want you to. I meant it, and I'll mean it tomorrow, and next week, and when we're old and wrinkly and wreaking havoc somewhere in a nursing home, flying around the halls in wheelchairs and pissing people off by switching their oatmeal for Frosted Flakes and breaking their dentures."

And Benny laughed for what felt like the first time in days, when in reality it had only been around eight hours since he'd even felt a morsel of hope, and Ethan's pain was gone more than when he'd been numb from head to toe.

"I think everyone should just be glad that the paramedics let me ride in the ambulance with you, or else I would have started burning down the school and smashing car windows."

"I think we should all just be glad that you didn't burn down Drew." And then Ethan looked at Benny with wide eyes. "You didn't, right?"

"No." Benny said softly, squeezing back once more. "Austin, out of anyone in the class, held me back and prevented me from kicking his teeth in."

Though Ethan knew that Drew was having a serious self-destructing break-down, and really wasn't in a right state of mind, Ethan was glad that Benny wanted to avenge him in a weird, twisted way. He really just wanted someone to care so that he wouldn't end up like Drew.

"Good. You don't need to go to Juvie with him."

Benny nodded, not saying anything back as he rolled the events of Chemistry around in his head again, and he thanked God for what must have been the thousandth time for not letting Ethan die. Even though Benny didn't exactly believe in that sort of thing any more, but hell, he hadn't known he was a warlock for years, so who knew what was real and what wasn't.

Ethan's real, and right in front of you, dumbass, someone said in the back of Benny's mind, and he could practically feel them rolling their eyes at him. This was true; all of Benny's worrying and crying and anger and who all knows what that afternoon had been for jack because Ethan was fine, and left the whole incident with nothing more than a few broken ribs and bullet hole scars in the front and back of his left side.

Benny realized that he had been staring Ethan for around five minutes now, with Ethan staring back at him, and all at once he could hardly stand the emotion building up like a tidal wave within himself. He let go of Ethan's hand, ignoring the smaller's look of inquiry, and gently cupped his face again to pull him in for a feathery kiss.

Shocked beyond comprehension, Ethan simply stared at Benny's closed eyelids as his friend continued to kiss him. The warmth from his palms settled in, though, something he'd always loved about Benny, aside from his humor, and as his heart rate sped up along with his intake of what, exactly, was happening.

But then Benny pulled back, before he could do anything in return, and he didn't move as Benny sat upright again and looked at him dazedly.

"What was that for?" Ethan asked him dumbly, blinking.

Benny grinned shyly. "You scared the shit out of me this morning, E. I wasn't going to let anything stop me from doing that again. And especially because of some idiot shooting you."

Ethan gaped at him for a moment. But then as Benny began to think that some sort of awkwardness had begun to set in, due to his irrationality, Ethan surged forwards and wound his arms around Benny's neck, yanking him closer than he had been before. Ethan kissed him deeply, and hungrily, and Benny saw stars as he pulled the other closer by curling his arms around his sides, careful to avoid his injury that had only begun to heal.

Ethan pulled away first, this time, gasping for air that he had just recently recieved, and Benny was the one to ask a stupid question this time.

"What was that for?" he mumbled against Ethan's open lips, pecking the bottom one lightly.

Ethan grinned, and just for the hell of it, Benny kissed that, too.

"That was thanks-for-saving-me-and-liking-me-back-and-someth ing-I've-wanted-to-do-for-years."

"Oh." Benny shrugged, nodding in thought. "I guess that makes sense."

Laughing, Ethan punched his shoulder in a way that Benny knew meant that Ethan both loved him and thought he was a complete and utter moron, before asking:

"Can you help me downstairs? I'm sure everyone's anxious to make sure I'm not really dead."

"I'm pretty sure your mom knows- she hasn't stopped checking on you on the hour ever since we got home."

Warm, and comforted by this information, Ethan got to his feet and with the aid of his best friend and now-boyfriend (ugh, how cliche, Ethan thought to himself with a gag), he walked downstairs to see his awaiting family.

_**xXxXx **_

The other three members of the Morgan family were sitting in the dining room, poking fruitlessly at their mashed potatoes and ham slices, trying to work up the will to eat something, but with the bricks of worry in their stomachs, they could hardly handle a glass of water, much less a full,

cooked meal.

But they all looked up at once upon hearing someone wobbling down the stairs, and before they could get over their wonderment as to who it was, Benny and Ethan were walking into the kitchen, Ethan leaning heavily against the taller male for support. They were both pale, and Ethan looked incredibly weak, but alive, and suddenly there was color in the air again as his parents and Jane jumped up at once to go to him.

"Oh, Ethan, we were so worried!" Mrs. Morgan cried into his hair, kissing him over and over again anywhere she could easily reach. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

Ethan hugged her back, before she gave him one last kiss and was suddenly replaced by Ross, who embraced him just as tightly, and Ethan returned it as best as he could.

"I love you, Son. I'm glad you're safe."

Ethan mumbled back his words of love, smiling into his father's shoulder, and his father pulled away to let Jane have her turn.

Carefully, but not so carefully, Jane all but threw herself at Ethan, holding onto him tightly the way a koala bear might hold onto a tree.

"I'm so happy you're okay, Ethan!" Jane said with muffled words into his stomach, clutching handfuls of his shirt in her smaller fists. "If you weren't here, I'd have no one to force into playing dress up with me, or to watch scary movies with, or to bribe money off of."

Laughing, Ethan lowered himself down to hug her back properly, one hand on the back of her head and the other across the small stretch of her back. Everyone watched with light hearts as the siblings embraced, and for once, weren't bickering about stupid, meaningless topics, like TV channels or lunch food.

"You can't get rid of me that easily."

Jane giggled, squeezing his neck, and she said finally, "I love you, Ethan."

"I love you too, Jane."

After they separated, Jane grinning up at her big brother with real joy, the family, including Benny, who was practically the Morgan's second son, took seats at the dinner table, Mrs. Morgan making Ethan and Benny their own plates.

They all picked up as though nothing like Ethan's probable death had happened, and for that, Ethan was glad; he was relieved that they weren't dwelling on the horrific accident, or the fact that Ethan was going to possibly still suck at Chemistry, and Ethan didn't have to worry about telling his parents that him and Benny were together because they were smiling pointedly at their clasped hands, sitting on top of the dining room table. Ethan heart could have bursted with joy at that point in time if it had wanted to.

Around halfway through dinner, Benny leaned over while Mr. and Mrs. Morgan were in the middle of reminiscing about a honeymoon disaster dealing with the ocean and her white sundress.

"Hey, Ethan?"

Leaning in closer, looking up at Benny beneath his lashes, Ethan murmured back:

"Yeah?"

Benny grinned softly. "I love you."

His heart really did burst this time.

"I love you, too."

Jane, however, wasn't listening properly to Mrs. Morgan rant about her ruined dress, and instead she stuck her tongue out, letting it hand over her lip.

"_Yuck!_ Love proclamations!"

"Shut up, Jane, or I'll make him kiss me right in front of you."

The ten year old simply shoveled more potatoes into her mouth, smiling sickly sweet at her older brother and his ridiculous boyfriend.

And they grinned back in unison.

_**A/N: First of all, I'm really, really sorry. As I said that I would at the beginning, I'm going to explain to you why, exactly, this took so long. **_

_**I guess it's just because I've been having a sort of a break down- kind of like a mid-life crisis, except that I'm not fifty and in desperate need to blow my money on stupid shit like a surfing board line when I don't live near the ocean or a new car I'll drive once and then break. There's just been some difficulties in my life and they've made it hard to focus on anything and I was so wrapped up in everything else that I completely forgot about updating my stories and such. So I'm sorry that this took almost another year, and I promise that I'm going to get back into the rhythm of writing and updating and such. I'm working on my Kogan stories, too, for those who read those, and I'm going to clean up Unlucky Findings, work on All That Glitters Is Not Gold, throw in some one-shots for when I have writer's block, and get some new stories up here. So stay tuned, and I hope you liked the end to this horrid and ridiculously procrastinated three-shot :)**_


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